


The future we will make

by fortytworedvines



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, happy ever after, post-war reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-02 00:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19188544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Spiro and Louisa are reunited in Bournemouth. There's a surprise in store for Spiro and an excellent reason for a party.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a basket of mending in front of her and Louisa sat working her way through it, half her mind on the task in hand and half daydreaming about Corfu. The war in Europe had finally ended and she’d sent letters to their friends straight away, begging for news. She’d heard nothing back yet. Her heart clenched, as it always did. There had been such dreadful news of the war in Greece – but they couldn’t all have died, surely? Her mind dwelt on Spiro, on that single, perfect, day they’d spent together.

She sighed and picked up another shirt, poking her fingers through its numerous holes. Honestly, how had Gerry managed to get worse with age? He barely lived here any more and yet she seemed to spend half her life mending his clothes. She would put her foot down; he could do his own in future.

A knock at the door started her out of her reverie. She threw the shirt back into the pile and stowed the basket on the floor, neatening her hair as she hastened to the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but with children like hers she never knew what might turn up.

She opened the door with a polite smile and then her hand dropped and she collapsed against the door frame in shock.

“Hello, Mrs Durrells.”

He was thinner, his hair was shot through with grey, but it was him.

“Spiro,” she said faintly, pinching herself surreptitiously.

“You wrote, I came,” he said. “Is… that okay?”

“It’s really you?” She reached out tentatively and he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “Oh, Spiro!” She flung herself at him and he caught her, pulling her in to rest against his shoulder, his hands finding her hair and stroking soothingly. Her fingers clenched around his shirt, holding him tight. For long moments they stood, wrapped around each other. Then Louisa drew back, blinking back her tears.

“Come in,” she said, drawing him through the door. She led him into the kitchen, still holding his hand, unwilling to let him go. “Coffee?”

“Please.” He let go of her fingers gently. “I am not going anywhere,” he said, reassuringly, and she smiled at him as she put the kettle on.

He sat down at the table and watched her. “I came because I wanted to tell you things in person,” he said.

Louisa’s hands shook. “I have things to tell you too. You first?”

The kettle boiled and she made their coffee, sat down at the table facing him. She couldn’t keep her eyes from him, unbelieving that after over six years of separation he was in her kitchen, in Bournemouth, with her.

One of his hands cupped his coffee, the other reached out to her. “I am no longer married,” he said bluntly.

Louisa paled. “Your wife… did she…?”

“No, she is well. And the boys, thank God. They are in Athens. The boys are nearly men, they are making their own way in the world. And my wife and I – we have divorced. She is seeing a man in Athens. And I –” his thumb ran across the back of her hand, “I came here.”

“You’re free.”

“Yes.”

She burst into tears.

“Louisa.” He moved around the table, gathered her into his arms and sat her on his lap, “Louisa, my love, don’t cry.”

She buried her head into his neck. “They’re happy tears,” she hiccuped.

“Are you sure you want me?” he asked quietly, “It has been a long six years.”

She pulled back so she could look him in the eyes. She could see a heaviness in them that hadn’t been present before. “I never stopped loving you,” she said.

“Nor I you.” His eyes flickered to her lips but he didn’t kiss her. “You have something to tell me? Your letter said you were all well?”

Louisa wiped her eyes and bit her lip. “Yes, we’re all well, came through the war relatively unscathed. There’s...” her voice trailed off, “It’s hard to tell you. I’ve imagined it so many times but now you’re here and I can’t...”

His arms tightened around her. “It’s okay.”

“I...” She hesitated again.

A childish shriek of glee suddenly rang out in the garden and they both jumped.

“You have a grandchild?” Spiro questioned.

Louisa gulped. “No, not yet.”

The back door crashed open.

“Mummy! Mummy, look what I found!” A little girl ran into the kitchen. She was about five years old, with olive brown skin and thick black hair pulled back into pigtails. She was waving a worm.

Louisa stood up hastily from Spiro’s lap.

“Hello darling, what a nice worm.”

“It’s the longest worm I’ve _ever_ found.”

“How lovely.”

The little girl glanced towards the visitor and back at her mother. “Hermione darling, this is Spiro. Say hello.”

“Hello,” Hermione parroted obediently, then she turned back to Louisa, “I’m going to measure it and keep it safe for when Gerry gets home.”

“That’s nice dear, I’m sure he’ll be very excited.”

The little girl ran out of the kitchen and they heard her thump her way upstairs.

Louisa smoothed her skirt and turned to face Spiro.

“You have a daughter,” he said unsteadily.

She nodded, waiting.

He stood slowly and moved towards her. His voice shook. “Do… Louisa, do _we_ have a daughter?”

She nodded again. He caught her hand, reached up to brush the silent tears that had begun to fall down her cheeks. She leant forward and pressed her head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t know. I couldn’t tell you in a letter and the war had started and nobody could get to Corfu and...”

He silenced her with a kiss. His lips were soft and gentle against hers, just as she remembered.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, once he’d drawn away, “And you can tell me all about it.”

She led him through to the living room. He glanced around curiously, then sat on the sofa and pulled her down next to him.

“I think I can imagine the beginning,” he said after a moment, “Our last day together.”

“I wasn’t thinking, or, at least, I thought I was too old.”

“I did not think either.” He put his arm around her and she leant into him gratefully.

“For a few months I thought I was getting old… you know...” she waved her hand vaguely, “But then Gerry said I was getting fat and I started to wonder, so I went to the doctor and...”

“Baby.”

“Baby. The other children were good about it.” She looked up at him, “They know she’s yours, of course. Margo helped a lot in the early years and Gerry has really taken her under his wing recently.”

“The worm.”

“Yes, he’s thrilled to finally have a sibling who shares his interests.” She laughed a little. “Larry and Leslie are more like uncles to her, I suppose, than older brothers.”

“And...what did you tell people?”

Louisa closed her eyes in shame. “That I met her father on Corfu. Nothing specific. I think a lot of people imagine that I was married and widowed. And then of course, it was war time and there were war babies all over the place very quickly. Nobody has really asked too many questions. It’s not _English_ , you see.” She paused. “She has my surname. I’m sorry.”

“You have raised her,” Spiro said gently, “She is a Durrells.” He stroked her hair for a moment. “What does she know about me?”

“She knows that her father is Greek. And I told her,” Louisa’s voice faltered, “That her father would love her.”

“You were right,” Spiro said firmly, “You had a shock, now I have had a shock. But we have made a beautiful little girl and I would like to know her, and be her father.”

“Would you?” There was longing in her voice.

Spiro kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Louisa. I would like the chance to love Hermione too.”

Louisa’s fingers found a button on his shirt and toyed with it. “How long are you in England?”

“As long as you want me.”

“Now you’re here I’m never letting you go again,” she whispered.

Spiro tilted her chin up, kissed her deeply until she was melting against him. “That sounds good.”

“You don’t have anything with you,” Louisa said with sudden realisation.

“I stayed at a guest house last night,” Spiro pulled her close, “I wanted to look presentable for you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared what you looked like.”

“Or smelt like?” He asked teasingly.

She shook her head with a smile. “Spiro, you will stay here now, won’t you?”

“Do you have room?”

“For you, always.”

“Will the children mind?”

“I don’t care,” she laid her head against his chest to feel the thrumming of his heart, “I really don’t care.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You will be careful?” Louisa clutched Spiro’s hand tightly as he stood in the hallway.

He stroked her cheek. “I think I can manage to get there and back safely, yes,” he said with a smile.

“Promise?” She knew she was being irrational but now she’d got him again she was terrified of losing him.

His face softened. “Promise,” he assured her, and squeezed her hand tightly.

Reluctantly, Louisa let him go, watched him down the street until he was out of sight. Then, with a sigh and a laugh, she headed across the road to get Margo.

 

The kettle was on again and Margo was perched on the edge of the kitchen table fidgeting impatiently when the front door opened. Louisa let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and Margo ran to the door.

“Spiro!” She threw herself at him and he hugged her tightly. “I missed you!”

“And I missed you. How is the boarding house?”

“Full of interesting characters.”

“We seem to attract them,” Louisa said wryly as she slipped past Margo to claim Spiro’s arm.

Margo beamed as she stepped back. “It’s so good to see you together again. Come into the kitchen, Spiro. Mother’s been baking.”

“I’ve only been gone an hour,” Spiro grinned down at Louisa.

“Keeping busy,” she murmured. “Margo, will you call your sister?” She winced as Margo took her literally and bellowed up the staircase.

“Are you going to tell her?” Margo asked curiously as they moved into the kitchen and sat at the table.

“Not just yet?” Louisa said uncertainly. “I don’t know.”

Spiro laid a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “Let her get to know me a little first. It’ll be alright, Louisa.”

“Will it?” Spiro kissed her forehead and she leant into him gratefully. “I love you.”

“This is so lovely,” Margo said. Louisa blushed and tried to sit up but Spiro held her tightly.

“Yes, it is,” he said.

 

Hermione joined them and sat quietly eating cake and listening with brown eyes wide open as they chatted about Corfu. Louisa stayed well away from the topic of war and Spiro was glad to reminisce about happier times. His eyes were constantly drawn to his daughter – _his daughter_! He’d never expected this but as he watched her he was suffused with joy. Louisa saw his gaze and smiled softly.

After tea Hermione scampered back upstairs and Margo left to sort out some issue at her boarding house. “Call me when Gerry and Les are back,” she called as she disappeared out of the door.

Alone finally, Spiro pulled Louisa into his lap, wrapped his arms around her. She was a warm, comforting, weight and he studied her face hungrily.

“You look like you want to eat me,” she teased as she draped her arms over his shoulders.

“Oh, I do,” he murmured. The kiss he pressed to her lips was swift but full of promise.

She shivered. “Later.” The desire in her voice sent a thrill racing through him. “Lets get you settled in.” She stood up and Spiro sighed at the loss of her.

He’d left his two bags in the hall. They took one each and Louisa led him upstairs. “Hermione is at the end,” she nodded to the room at the end of the corridor, “Then Gerry. He’s not here half the time though. Here’s the bathroom,” she prodded the door by the top of the stairs, then turned to her left, “And this is me. Us.” The room was bright and airy. Spiro hovered on the threshold and Louisa looked back enquiringly.

His mouth was dry. “Is this too soon?” His grip on his bag was tight, “I can sleep on the sofa for a while.”

“Do you want to?” her voice was uncertain.

“No,” he admitted. “But I have bad dreams, sometimes.”

“So do I.”

Spiro let out a breath and joined her in the room. She wrested the bag from him and placed it on the floor. “There. Easy.”

Spiro laughed. “Yes.” Her eyes were full of love and happiness as she looked up at him and his heart constricted. This enchanting, wonderful woman wanted him. He couldn’t resist kissing her, deepened the kiss, mapped her back with his palms, remembering the feel of her even as he drank in her taste. Too soon, she pushed him away gently.

“Enough,” she said hoarsely, cheeks suffused with colour, “Later.” She slipped back from him and laughed at his growl of frustration. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Take that side of the wardrobe,” she gestured at it, “I’ve never had enough clothes to fill it.”

“Thank you,” he said and she shot one last smile before vanishing downstairs.

Alone in the room, Spiro sat on the bed and looked around. It was neat and uncluttered. He recognised a picture on the wall as one from the villa and wondered how many other little treasures she’d managed to save in that hasty few hours of packing. It reassured him, somehow made it feel like home already. On one bedside table were several framed photos. One was of her husband, he’d seen it before many times. And the other – the other was of him. He picked it up with hands that trembled.

He remembered the day it was taken, when Leslie had been briefly working as a photographer. He’d finally cornered Spiro and pointed out that even if Spiro didn’t want a photo, he needed the practise. Spiro had said if he had to have a photo taken it wasn’t going to be holding a watermelon, or anything equally silly. The shot they’d finally agreed on was Spiro standing in the doorway to the villa. He’d posed for the photo and then left and never thought more about it. But Leslie had developed it and Louisa had kept it, all these years by her bedside.

He blinked back the tears that threatened and pulled out his wallet. There behind the few notes that he had, was the photo that he had treasured all this time. Leslie had left it for him, along with his guns; passed it over in an envelope on the morning that they left and Spiro hadn’t known what it was until they’d gone. Now, he drew it out, ran his fingers reverently over Louisa’s face. He had the real thing now. He propped the photo in the corner of the photo of him, reuniting their photographic selves as well.

His clothes were stowed quickly – he hadn’t brought much. Seeing his shirts hanging next to Louisa’s blouses made him swallow hard. During the long, difficult journey across war-torn Europe he had been entirely focussed on simply seeing her again. And now, for the first time, he could see their future together, stretching out in front of him.

 

“Do you want to see my zoo?” Hermione accosted him as he was about to head back downstairs.

Spiro smiled at her, “Of course. Do you know, I helped Gerry to build his zoo in Corfu?”

He allowed his daughter to tug him into her bedroom. It was full of books and several small tanks.

“Your worms?” He asked, pointing at the tanks.

“And my frog,” Hermione said importantly. “Look, here’s my zoo.”

Spiro looked at the array of little animal toys in cardboard boxes that were decorated to look like enclosures. “Very impressive. As good as Gerry’s.” He felt rewarded as Hermione beamed up at him.

“This one’s my favourite,” she said, picking up a lion. “Which one is yours?”

Spiro sat himself carefully on the floor and studied the various animals. “That’s a difficult question. Do I have to choose?”

“Yes!” Hermione laughed.

Spiro pulled an exaggerated frown and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This one,” he said eventually, pointing to a flamingo.

 

Louisa put away the last clean bowl into the cupboard and wondered how Spiro was getting on. As she headed up the stairs she heard Hermione laughing, and then, with faint surprise, an echoing chuckle from Spiro. She pushed Hermione’s bedroom door open to see them both sitting on the floor, surrounded by toy animals. She leant against the door frame, hand pressed to her chest as she watched her daughter and her love play together.

“Hello, you two,” she said softly when Hermione noticed her.

Spiro turned with a smile, “We’re playing zoos,” he explained. She could read in his face the same joy that she felt. They stared at each other for a moment before Hermione interrupted.  
“Spiro is really good at animal voices.”

“Is he?” Louisa raised an eyebrow and Spiro laughed.

“I have many talents.” He winked at her and she blushed and shook her head. “Do you need me?”

“No. No, you stay here and play. Gerry and Les will be home in half an hour and we’ll have dinner then.”

 

The front door banged. “Mum, we’re home!”

Louisa hastened to the hall. “Boys.”

Gerry and Leslie exchanged looks. “Has something happened mum?” Leslie asked.

“You’re sort of glowing,” Gerry added with a frown.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly and she turned to look up the stairs as she heard Hermione’s chatter grow louder.

Gerry and Leslie followed her gaze and then Gerry yelled, “Spiro!”

“Hello Gerry, hello Leslie,” Spiro said as he came downstairs hand-in-hand with Hermione.

“Spiro, this is amazing!” Leslie said as he shook his hand in welcome.

Spiro eyed Gerry. “Gerry, you have grown,”

“Everybody says that,” Gerry laughed. “How good to see you.”

“Yes,” Spiro agreed. “I brought this for you.” He drew an envelope from his pocket and passed it over. “From Theo.”

“Fantastic.” Gerry opened it eagerly and smiled in delight, “He says he’s coming to England!”

“Why don’t we all go into the kitchen and sit down and you can tell us what else he’s said,” Louisa suggested, “Leslie, pop across the road and fetch Margo?”

Gerry wandered down the hall, engrossed in his letter. Louisa caught Spiro’s hand and smiled as he squeezed her fingers tightly.

Shortly the entire family was seated around the kitchen table.

“Well?” Leslie said as Gerry finally looked up.

“He says he has a few things to sort out in Corfu and then he’s coming here. He’s planning to live in London for a while.” Gerry sighed, “His parents were killed.”

“Oh no, poor Theo,” Louisa said sadly.

Leslie looked at Spiro. “How bad was it?”

“Bad,” Spiro said, with a warning glance at Hermione. “The island is not the same as the one you left. Many buildings destroyed, many people.”

There was a moment of silence and then Margo said with forced casualness. “So, what’s for dinner?”

Louisa laughed tearfully, “I know food is the only reason you and Les live so close.”

“We wouldn’t want to deprive you of the fun of cooking for us,” Leslie said.

“Thank you. It’s vegetable stew. And you lot can get out the bowls and cutlery, thank you.”

 

“Heard from Larry recently?” Leslie asked as they all tucked into dinner.

Louisa shook her head, “Not for a few weeks. Last I heard he was in France.”

“He’ll be back like a shot once he knows you’re here, Spiro. Not to mention Theo on his way. You know what!” Leslie said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, “Let’s have a proper reunion party.”

“You and I can bake,” Spiro suggested to Louisa.

“Well,” she smiled, remembering the last time they’d baked together, “Sounds like a plan.”

 

“I love the children,” Spiro said, several hours later as he closed the bedroom door firmly behind him, “But I am glad we are finally on our own.”

“Oh, me too,” Louisa said fervently. She smiled bashfully, “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Spiro stalked forward, edged her backwards until she bumped into the edge of the bed and sat down abruptly. “Louisa,” he whispered as he leant down to kiss her.

She cupped his cheek as she kissed him back, feeling his stubble prickle against her fingers in wonderful contrast to the softness of his lips. It was as though the last six years had vanished and it was only yesterday that they’d been entwined on a deserted beach.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured as he pulled away briefly.

“Every day. My love, don’t cry.” Tears that she was barely aware of slipped down her face and he kissed them away.

“I’m never letting you go again, do you understand? Never,” she said fiercely.

Spiro hummed in agreement as he started undoing her blouse and his lips moved to her neck.

“Ohhh,” she sighed as she tilted her head to give him more space. She found the edge of his shirt and pulled, slipped her fingers under the edge to touch the soft skin of his stomach.

Her blouse was soon discarded on the bed. Spiro lay down, pulled her next to him as she undid the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it open, let her fingers comb through the hair on his chest as she studied him. “You’re thin.” She found the raised lines of several scars and kissed them. “What happened?”

Spiro shook his head. “Another time. You haven’t changed.” His arms pulled her in tight and she revelled in the feeling of being held so closely by him.

“A few more stretch marks,” she said as he explored her stomach.

“Then we both have war wounds.” He pressed his lips to the faint grey lines as he neatly undid her skirt and pulled it off. Louisa reciprocated, and sighed with delight as their bare legs tangled together.

Spiro stroked her hair and smiled. “I remember this.”

“It’s comfier than the beach,” Louisa said reminiscently.

“It was romantic though, wasn’t it?” Spiro said. “The sun, the sound of the sea.”

“Yes, although I was mainly concentrating on this.” Louisa took one of his hands and slipped it down her body to her thighs.

“Louisa,” he groaned as his fingers found her damp.

“I’ve waited long enough,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Spiro rolled her carefully onto her back, pushed slowly into her as she clung onto him.

“I love you,” she said as his hips rolled.

“And I love you.”

She held his gaze until the pleasure inside her grew too intense and she threw her head back and cried out as waves crashed through her body. She was barely aware of his echoing moan, blinked back into herself slowly as he peppered her face with kisses. She met his lips with hers, and kissed him until they were both breathless.

When Spiro finally drew away he was smiling. “Marry me?”

She stared at him for a second then smiled back. “Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re getting married?” Gerry said, slightly incredulously, over breakfast. “Isn’t it a bit, well, quick?”

“Quick? We’ve been waiting years!” Louisa said.

“And you’ve been together for how long in that time?”

“Five days, if you have to be precise.”

“Four, I think,” Spiro corrected her with a grin.

“That’s not helpful!”

“I can see it’s going to be a peaceful marriage.”

“Quiet, awful child. Don’t you have a job to get to?” Louisa aimed a swat at Gerry’s head. He ducked it neatly and stood up.

“I’m off. Have a good day.”

“Did you just _wink_?” Louisa called after him.

“He winked,” Spiro confirmed as he pulled Louisa onto his lap.

Louisa slipped her arms around his waist and sighed as he kissed her. “Are we going to scandalise everybody?”

“Does it matter if we do?”

“No.”

“How quickly can we marry?”

Louisa leant back comfortably into his embrace. “I’m not sure, I’ve never got married here. It didn’t take long in India.”

“Nor in Corfu.”

A thought occurred to her and she gripped his arms tightly. “Spiro, Corfu. Will we go back?”

Spiro kissed the top of her head and sighed. “I love my country. I love my island. But it is not a good place at the moment. It will take a long time to recover from the war and I would not want to take a child there.”

“Will you be happy here?”

He chuckled, “I can be happy anywhere, if I have you.”

“I’d like to go back someday. Show Hermione her heritage.”

“Someday,” Spiro agreed comfortably. He glanced upwards as a door banged overhead, “Ah, she’s awake. Will you tell her about us?”

“Yes, I think so.”

 

“Morning Mummy, morning Spiro,” Hermione said as she skipped into the kitchen and headed for the back door.

“Wait!” Louisa said sternly. “Breakfast first.” She started a round of toast and Hermione sat reluctantly at the table.

“Kalimera, Hermione,” Spiro said.

Louisa opened her mouth to translate but was startled into silence when Hermione replied “Kalimera. Pos iste?”

“Hang on,” Louisa said, “How do you know Greek?”

“Leslie’s been teaching me,” Hermione said with glee.

“But – why?”

“Because I’m Greek.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair enough, but why didn’t you tell me?”

“To surprise you. And my father.” Hermione glanced at Spiro as she spoke and Louisa realised her daughter had cottoned on to the situation more quickly than she’d expected.

“Darling,” she began and then broke off to retrieve the blackening toast, “Marmalade?” Hermione nodded and Louisa continued nervously, “Spiro is your father. And, well, we’re going to get married.”

“Okay.” Hermione grabbed a slice of toast and started munching on it.

“Okay?”

“I thought he was. His picture is by your bed.”

“Oh, well. Yes, that’s true.”

“Can I be a bridesmaid?”

Spiro began to laugh as Louisa’s brain scrambled to catch up with the conversation. “Yes, you can be a bridesmaid,” he said.

Hermione shoved the last of her toast in her mouth. “Thank you. Can I go and play now?”

The door closed behind her and Spiro’s laugh rang through the kitchen. “She is definitely a Durrells.”

Louisa wiped her forehead, “To think I’ve been worrying about having that conversation with her for years.”

Spiro hugged her, “My poor Louisa.”

“Your Louisa,” she murmured as she rested her head against his chest, “I like that.”

 

“Today’s the day,” Louisa said two weeks later, as she woke up in Spiro’s arms, “Last chance to change your mind.”

Spiro brushed her curls back from her face and smiled at her, “Never,” he said softly and kissed her.

Louisa wrapped herself happily around him as his lips left hers to kiss down her neck. The past two weeks had proved that even after years apart they were still in love, still unbelievably happy together. There were nights when he’d started awake in a cold sweat and she’d held him and reassured him, and there were nights when she’d woken crying and he’d comforted her. They’d both had terrible experiences but they hadn’t changed who they were. Now, she sighed with pleasure as his hands found their way under her nightgown.

“Do we have time?” he mumbled.

She glanced at the clock. “Half an hour.”

“I’ll make the most of it.”

 

A little while later the family and Theo were sitting around the kitchen table. Hermione was already in the new dress that Louisa and Margo had concocted from one of Margo’s old ones and was sitting on Larry’s lap because there weren’t enough chairs to go round.

“Here, Theo, what do you think?” Leslie produced something that could have been a priest’s hat if you squinted, and a large fake beard.

Theo took them and put them on solemnly. “Perfect.” Like Spiro, he had arrived looking thinner and greyer than Louisa remembered, and occasionally seemed to disappear into himself. After several days of her cooking he’d plumped up a bit and he smiled more frequently.

“Thank you for doing this Theo,” Louisa said, “We couldn’t find a Greek Orthodox priest anywhere in Bournemouth.”

“Fancy that,” he laughed.

“Spiro and I are going to the town hall this morning. Margo, Leslie, can you look after the food?” The whole family had pooled their ration coupons, even Hermione giving up her sugar ration towards the production of something resembling a wedding cake.

“Leave it to us,” Leslie said, then sighed, “It’s not the same without the little sausages.”

“Remember the wedding cake that Lugaretzia made?” Larry said reminiscently, “So many prunes.”

“Well, this one is prune-less.” Louisa glanced up at the clock, “We’d better get ready to go,” she said to Spiro.

 

Spiro planted a kiss to Hermione’s head before he followed Louisa upstairs. The little girl had reacted with complete equanimity to the news that he was her father and over the past two weeks he’d been getting to know her. She often came to curl up with him on the sofa, demanding stories about Corfu and practising her Greek. She still called him Spiro but, he reflected, it was too soon for anything else.

Louisa vanished into the bathroom and he went into their bedroom and pulled out the new suit that they’d managed to afford. He threw it carefully onto the bed and then glanced at Louisa’s bedside table. Her husband’s eyes seemed to be staring at him from his photo. He picked the picture up and studied it. Louisa had told him bits and pieces about Laurence and he knew that his death had devastated her. She’d assured him that Laurence would have been happy for them.

“I promise I’ll look after her,” he said quietly to the photo.

“Are you okay?” Louisa’s voice made him jump and he placed the photo quickly back down.

“I...”

“Shall I move his photo?” she asked uncertainly.

“No,” he pulled her into a hug, “I just wanted him to know that I’d look after you.”

Louisa’s eyes were damp as she looked up at him. “I love you so much.” Then she glanced at the suit on the bed, “But will you hurry up and get changed please?”

 

The formalities at the town hall were completed quickly and Louisa was Mrs Halikiopoulos before she knew it. Spiro cupped her cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and they stared at each other for a moment before he blinked and said, “Come on, let’s get home.”

They strolled back hand-in-hand through the streets. When they turned into their road, they could hear the strains of music coming from their garden.

“The neighbours are going to hate us,” Louisa laughed.

“We can invite them too, if they complain,” Spiro said easily. He stopped for a second, listening. “Is that an accordion?”

 

“They’re back,” Margo shrieked as they entered the house. “Come on,” she grabbed them each by a hand and tugged them into the crowded back garden. Louisa stopped and gasped. The garden had been strewn with paper garlands and at the end was a little wooden shelter. Theo was standing beneath it, clad in hat and beard and smiling widely.

“Where’d that come from?” she asked Spiro.

“Gerry and I made it for you,” he said, squeezing her hand, “Your log cabin.”

“Oh,” she sighed.

“Mummy!” Hermione scrambled up from where she’d been playing with Florence’s son, “Daddy!”

Louisa heard Spiro’s sharp intake of breath as Hermione hurtled at them. They caught her together and she wrapped an arm around each of their necks. Their eyes met over her head, both suspiciously damp.

Somebody started clapping and Louisa looked around the garden at their friends, happily reunited after so many years apart. Florence and Dr Petridis with their son who had become Hermione’s staunch companion over the past few days; Sven, who had somehow kept his accordion safe; Donald, who’d put his frustrations as Gerry’s tutor to good measure and become a teacher; Geoffrey and Pru of course and then a number of the Bournemouth friends Louisa had acquired over the last few years.

“Shall we got on with it?” Larry asked after a few minutes. “Come on.” He lifted Hermione from her parents’ arms and gave her and Louisa bouquets.

“Who?” Louisa asked as she took hers.

“Margo made them, and these.” He produced two marriage crowns. “Come on.” He prodded them both.

Everything seemed to blur for Louisa as she and Spiro clasped hands and walked down the garden to Theo. She focussed on the feel of Spiro’s hand in her own and the smile on Theo’s face. Then Theo was chanting the words of the wedding ceremony and Larry was passing the crowns over her and Spiro’s heads.

“Come,” Spiro whispered after a little while, and he led her around the wooden shelter three times.

As they stopped finally, he turned her to face him and, as their guests clapped again, kissed her firmly.

Theo beamed as he pronounced them man and wife and Sven began to play a sirtaki on his accordion. Spiro led Louisa into the middle of the garden and their guests formed circles around them. They danced until Lousia was laughing and dizzy and then she retired to sit chatting with Florence while Spiro grabbed a guitar and he, Sven and Theo played and sang.

 

“You look very happy,” Florence said softly to Louisa as they watched their friends dancing.

“I am. It seems like a dream, to have Spiro finally.”

“And starting a new family with him.” Florence gazed at Hermione and her son, who were dancing in front of Spiro.

“He’s such a good father. Hermione loves him already and he seems so happy to have her.”

“Were you worried?” Florence raised her eyebrows.

“About presenting him with a young daughter when all our other children are grown up? Yes, a little.”

“He’s always loved children.”

“At least she’s well past the nappy stage. It could have been worse.”

“She’s a lovely little girl. You’ve done a good job with her, Louisa.”

“Thank you,” Louisa said quietly.

 

“Time to cut the cake!” Larry called as the dance wound to a finish.

Margo carried the wedding cake carefully into the garden and the guests surrounded it and cheered as Spiro and Louisa cut it carefully. Spiro squeezed Louisa’s hand and faced their friends.

“My wife and I,” he began and they all cheered again, “Would like to thank you all for coming. It’s so good to see all our friends together again.”

“We’ve been a long time getting here,” Louisa added, “It’s ten years since we first met on a hot, dusty road in Corfu,” she looked up at Spiro, “You’ve been my friend, my rock, my love. I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you.”

Spiro pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly, to the accompaniment of whistles from Larry and Leslie.

“I love you too,” he murmured as he pulled away, then grinned, “And your wonderful, peculiar, children. Now, more dancing!”

 

“It has been a good day,” Spiro said many hours later in a quiet house.

“Yes,” Louisa said, “But I’m so glad to finally have you to myself. It was good of Margo to put the children up for the night.” She melted into Spiro as he stroked her hair. “I love you, husband.”

“You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that, wife.”

“Finally,” Louisa sighed. “I can’t believe you’re finally mine. Take me to bed?”

“With pleasure.” Spiro swept her into his arms and she laughed as he carried her carefully up the stairs and deposited her on their bed. “Tonight, you can be as loud as you want,” he murmured as he kissed her neck.

“I’m never going to get tired of this.” Louisa undid his shirt buttons and ran her hands over his chest. “You looked so handsome today.”

“And you looked beautiful,” her blouse was discarded on the floor and her skirt followed swiftly, “You always look beautiful. I love you, Louisa. With all my heart.”

His lips trailed down her body till he was lying between her legs, pressing kisses to her thighs till she was squirming and he relented and licked her just where she wanted it.

“Ohhh,” she sighed and tangled her fingers in his hair. He looked up, held her eyes firm as his fingers slipped inside her and she cried out in pleasure. Lips and fingers worked in wonderful harmony and she clung to him as he brought her to climax. She lay back, flushed, panting and laughed. “Wow.”

Spiro smiled as his fingers trailed slowly over her ribs. “That was just the beginning,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't quite say goodbye to these two yet. I hope you've all enjoyed this wishful little piece and thank you for kudos/comments.


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